Earth's Honor
by Yaoifunboi
Summary: Here we take a close look at the servants of the Earth Alliance and Blue Cosmos. Their lives, their dreams, their loves, their hates, and their battles. No pairings… so far.
1. What Makes A Man A Man

Title: Earth's Honor

Disclaimer: All characters are copyright Bandai- I'm just hijacking them for a while.

Rating: This chapter is PG-13

Author: Try/themethotaku

Pairings: None, so far

Warning: Characters in this fic may be racists, sexists, and homophobes, and talk like it. This in no way implies that I approve of racism, sexism, or homophobia.

Ch. 1: What Makes A Man A Man

"Roanoke, I just don't understand you sometimes" said Captain Ian Lee. Neo sipped his coffee, and relaxed in his chair. They were talking in the Girty Lou's mess, where Captain Lee had buttonholed the mysterious Blue Cosmos operative. "Haven't you noticed that that Stella chick of yours would let you have your way with her in a heartbeat?"

Neo narrowed his eyes, and replied "I have, but I prefer to think of her as a daughter. After all, I am the reason she's alive today."

Lee laughed and said, "You're a man, aren't you Roanoke- You must have a man's needs."

Neo glared at this, and thundered, "I've had enough of your prying Lee! I do indeed have a man's needs, but how I go about satisfying them is none of your business!" And with that he strode off.

"Achoo!" The object of Captain Lee's voyeuristic lust was awakened by a sneeze. She had managed to nap for a few minutes despite the incredibly cramped coach seating, but her sudden sneezing fit woke her up rather quickly.

Auel whispered to Sting, "Oh boy, Miss Insane CE 73 is up again".

"Shut it!" snapped Sting. "It's not like we're on some pleasure cruise."

"But it's been four HOURS already and my legs are cramped and I really, really need a piss!" the blue-haired pilot whined.

"Well, head to the back of the shuttle and use the head" suggested Sting, in a tone of voice that said that he was surrounded by fools, and he suited his actions to his words by getting up, so that the blue haired pilot could make his way to the back of the shuttle.

Suddenly, Stella, whose forehead has been flush with the window ever since she has woken up, grabbed at the hem of his tunic. "Look at the stars, each one so pret…", she started to say."

"Shut up" Auel said, in a pained tone of voice that suggested that if he didn't get to the head, wet underwear would be immanent.

"Aww", pouted Stella.

"All passengers please fasten your seatbelts and return your chairs and seats to the upright position" said the intercom.

"Fuck", said Auel.

Meanwhile, aboard the Girty Lou, Neo issued the order to activate the mirage colloid, and the ship slowed to a crawl. In their quarters, the Girty Lou's normal pilots held a bitch session over the last of the ale Jon Izawa had smuggled aboard. "I wonder who th' hell that Roanoke fag thinks he is. He minces onto our ship and starts giving orders like he owns th' place." snarled a Dagger pilot named John.

"Fuuuck yeah- Fucking faggot. Where the hell do those vat-grown freaks get off, acting like they're better then us real men. After all, what are we fighting for, if not to keep the real men on top." This comment was courtesy of a fortyish lieutenant with a handlebar moustache.

"Vat-grown, you serious, Ted?" The other pilot was younger and clean-shaven, a mere flying sergeant.

"Yeah, John, I am. The Blue Cosmos highups have this huge lab, where they mass-produce identical pilots to protect the earth. They've got 3 or 4 models out, and they wear masks so that…"

"Aww, stuff that, Pops. Everyone knows that Roanoke was a ZAFT commander who died during the last war. He's lost his memory, and he's actually a Coordinator, but he doesn't know it," said John with the confidence of the young and fearless.

"Oh yeah, and if he died, how-come he's up and walking around now," scoffed Ted, with a dismissive flip of his wrist. "And don't call me Pops" he added

"Well…" The young pilot blushed.

"Thought so", Ted snorted.

AN. I prefer Stella to Stellar because it's a real English name. Also, if anyone knows how many cannon-fodder pilots the Girty Lou carried, please tell me.


	2. Gundamjack

Earth's Honor Ch 2.- Gundamjack

The departure from the shuttle was normal though not, strictly speaking, uneventful. After all, Auel screaming "save me a spot at the baggage claaaimmm" and running to the nearest men's room does, in fact, count as an event. Of course, by the time Auel had gotten out of the restroom, Neo and Stella had claimed everyone's luggage and was waiting their turn to go through Customs. As they sat in the waiting room, they idly watched the first class passengers flit through above them. These first class passengers were mostly polished business types, but with a smattering of people in uniforms, both ZAFT uniforms and ones that belonged to neither the EA nor ZAFT.

"Coordinators sure seem young, don't they" remarked Sting, as Auel planted himself on a couch beside his comrade.

"Well, yes, it is hard to tell their ages at a glance" agreed Auel, with a yawn.

Meanwhile, Stella paced in a slow circle, biting her nails. She was clearly very scared.

"Calm down, little one" said Sting, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, embracing the petite blond. However, Stella refused to be comforted, and tore away from his grasp.

Customs was nerve-wracking- although they weren't carrying anything illegal, and their falsified papers had been prepared in the same mint that the Atlantic Federation used to make the genuine articles, they were still entering a nation under false identities in order to commit what PLANT would call "acts of espionage and terrorism". Of course, the living CPUs didn't consider what they were doing terrorism. Auel saw himself as a bold brave hero, a sort of latter-day Rambo who would save real (natural) humanity from the coordinator menace. Sting saw himself as a soldier with a mission that he had to complete- it was never in his nature to ask himself why he had to obey orders, even before he had been brainwashed. Stella was incapable of such introspection- she functioned on a twelve-year-old level, capable of acting like an adult on a surface level, albeit with a limited attention span, but not able to engage in deep thought.

Stellar Loussier's mental limitations made matters especially harrowing for Sting Oakley and Auel Neider. Since the coach class passengers were proceeding through customs in alphabetical order, she would be passing into PLANT ahead of them, would be alone with the customs officer and have to wait patiently for her two compatriots to emerge. As Stella wandered in the direction of the customs desk, Sting wondered if patience was even a word in her vocabulary.

Meanwhile, the customs officer tried to be a professional and not stare at the chest of the attractive blond girl which had suddenly appeared before his eyes. "Ms. Loussir, do you have anything to declare?" he asked. She shook her head no without saying anything. At that point a dirty idea formed in his head. "I'm sorry, but we have to search you. Totally random, you understand," he lied. Stella favored him with a wide-eyed, uncomprehending look. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of 'patting her down'.

Suddenly, Auel walked up to the inspector, "I'm sorry, but could you let my wife through? We've been waiting to enter ZAFT for quite a while." He had quietly drifted over to watch things and ensure that Stella got through spaceport security without trouble. "Wife? Aren't you a bit young to be married?" Auel just grinned his most psychotic grin. The customs officer blanched and waved both of them through.

The elevator that took the Earth Alliance trio to down to the Plant's street level was a far cry from the gleaming conveyances provided for the elite. It descended down an internal shaft, so there was no view, and it was merely a metal box with a stained carpet floor.

The Living CPU's safe-house was located in the shaft of plant, part of the old workers quarters. This was the oldest part of PLANT, and it was entirely and blatantly artificial. The atmosphere was hot and stifling, and the alleyway their motel lead off of was litter-choked and stank.  
The clerk at the desk did not look much like a Coordinator. He was a twenty-five or so, fat, bearded, and slurping ramen. Sting's only words were "we are expected". The clerk paused in his snacking and handed the trio a keycard with a piggish grunt. Sting took the card gingerly, not touching the clerk's fingers. As the living CPUs entered their room, Sting hissed "those traitors may be useful, but oh how I despise them." He then closed the door, opened his suitcase, inserted the keycard into his PDA, then told his team "abandon your luggage here and follow me. We will have to accelerate our plan."


End file.
